


Whumptober Prompts

by RedneckWerewolf



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: here's most of the prompts i did for whumptober, i didn't do all of tthem lmao, i'm not tagging absolutely everyone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-07 16:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 11,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16857754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedneckWerewolf/pseuds/RedneckWerewolf
Summary: Whumptober means everybody gets boo boos





	1. Whumptober day 1/ day 29: stabbed/seizure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lamb and gage encounter some raiders that are not very nice

Gage was firing on a pair of raiders that had popped up behind him when Lamb entered the crumbling building. They hid behind the rusted hulk of a truck as Gage popped off another trio of shots, dropping one before hearing shots from inside. The second one screamed, enraged, as his companion fell limply over him.

If Gage had any sympathy, he didn’t show it as he took cover in the doorway, lighting a molotov. He tossed it, turning his attention to the sudden lack of gunfire inside. He heard the raider scream again as he quickly strode down the silent hallway.

He came across one body, then another, but no Lamb. He heard the muffled sounds of a scuffle from further down the hall. He reloaded his rifle as he approached, breaking into a sprint upon hearing Lamb’s pained cry paired with curses.

Gage burst into the doorway in time to hear a final shot and get spattered with blood. “Boss?” He asked, his voice sounding strained.

The dead raider slumped onto Lamb, a hole through their back.

“I’m here,” She replied, her voice shaking badly.

He dropped his rifle onto a chem-littered table and yanked the corpse off of her, throwing it off to the side. 

Gage saw the knife first, jammed into Lamb’s small thigh, down to the hilt. He saw how her hand loosely continued to hold her pistol at her side. Then he saw the broken injector under her ribs.

“Boss?” He asked quickly, dropping onto one knee beside her. He carefully tugged the needle free. He couldn’t tell what it was. “What was it? What did you get hit with?”

She was already pale and fading. “I caught them shooting up with Psycho. Get the gray stim in my belt,” she was mumbling, eyes unfocused.

Distantly, he remembered their chem conversation. Psycho gives me seizures. Gray needle is emergency anti-seizure. It’s only one dose, though.

“Mother fucking shit,” Gage swore as he fumbled for Lamb’s medical kit. 

Lamb got foggier as he ripped the fabric over her other thigh, the one without the knife. She was lucky they were close to Diamond City, she was going to need some serious doctoring. 

Gage figured she must have been hit with the chem as soon as she stepped in the room. He stuck the needle into her leg, feeling her go completely limp. Shit. 

He half-dragged her to a clear spot in the middle of the small room and looked around for something he could use as a cushion. She was already tensing up as he pulled his coat off and rolled it up. He fitted it under her head, her unseeing eyes blinking rapidly.

Her legs twitched and jerked, though the movement in her wounded leg was limited by both the blade and Gage’s careful grip. 

Then, just as it began, the seizure ended.

Gage sighed, shoulders sagging with relief and gently cupped her jaw with one hand, the other sweeping back the damp hair from her forehead. 

“Boss, you’re a real pain in my fucking ass.”

He dressed the wound, leaving the knife for the annoying doctor in Diamond City to remove, and lifted Lamb up carefully. 

She was trying to wake up, trying to talk, but the only thing he could make out of the slurred mess was his name.


	2. Whumptober day 2: bloody hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lamb and maccready get some boo-boos

The Gunners had caught them by surprise, their waystation hidden up above on the crumbling highway. No one in their right mind would go up there, it’s about to fall down.

Lamb had been proven wrong almost immediately, bullets kicking up puffs of dust around them as she and MacCready yelped and scrambled for cover. They ended up between a lone section of brick wall and a half-buried sedan. 

There were worse places to be pinned down.

MacCready was trying to peek and see where the Gunners were without losing his head. Lamb had more luck, holding up three fingers to indicate three shooters.

“One on your left, behind the plywood.” She glanced around her side of the brick. “The other two are coming down the lift on the far side of the right column.”

MacCready poked out around the corner to fire at Lamb’s signal, easily dropping the pair. They were running out in the open. 

He turned to Lamb as she tried to sight the Gunner, high up in the sky. “I don’t remember Gunners being this stupid. Something’s up.”

They both heard a distinct metallic crashing from the highway and glanced over the wall. “Shit,” Lamb said, realizing the Gunners had been running away from a loose robot. 

MacCready looked horrified as they heard the last Gunner’s faint scream from the highway. 

Lamb lifted Righteous Authority as she looked back over the wall. “It’s an Assaultron, get ready to flank it.”

“Right.”

They bolted from their cover in opposite directions.

Lamb heard a processed voice as she suddenly found herself on the ground. She tried to roll onto her back as a steel blade stabbed into the ground next to her. The Assaultron had nearly landed on her.

“Hey, ugly!” MacCready cried, bullets pinging into the robot’s facial armor, tearing pieces loose. “Over here!”

The Assaultron turned its attention to MacCready, allowing Lamb to collect her rifle and get back on her feet. She fired in turn with MacCready.

Lucky for them, it was already damaged from the unlucky Gunners, its armor falling away. Although, their luck didn’t last very long.

“Activating self-destruct,” the processed voice stated with a little more than a hint of malice.

“Fuck!”

“Move, move!” 

Lamb and MacCready turned and ran in opposite directions.

The blast knocked them both off their feet, Lamb tumbling, and found herself disoriented on the ground again. 

She reached for her rifle, which had stayed with her this time. “Bobby?” She called. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” He called back, and coughed a few times. He was already limping over to where she lay on her side. “Think I ate some dirt, though.”

“I think I landed on a rock or some shit,” She grimaced as she lifted herself onto an elbow. 

“Here,” MacCready dropped to the knee of his uninjured leg and tried to help lift her. The hand on Lamb’s back froze in momentary confusion. He pulled his hand away and checked, confirmed, that it was coated in Lamb’s blood.

“Oh, goddamnit, not again,” she said, dreading the night’s worth of shrapnel removal ahead of her. 

MacCready lifted Lamb’s shirt, the light brown succumbing to the spreading red stain. He was careful not to jostle the shards too much. He was also careful not to think too much about his friend’s blood soaking the cuffs of his sleeves.

“Some of this looks deep,” MacCready reported. “Think you can walk?”

He was met with silence and realized that Lamb had already fainted.


	3. Whumptober day 3: insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> danse is awake but it’s not actually sad
> 
> whump this
> 
> i’m very tired actually lmao

Sleeping had become harder for him over time. Since coming to the Commonwealth it had gotten substantially worse; being on guard day and night, never resting, losing the soldiers under his command, trying to keep the survivors alive.

He usually drank until he was tired enough to go down, but drinking around Lamb felt oddly wrong. He was weaning himself off that habit anyways.

Although, recently, he’d noticed that sleeping had become easier since he’d started sharing sleeping spaces with her. 

Lamb was quietly breathing under his arm, deep enough in sleep that she’d stopped moving. Sometimes she’d stim without realizing it as she fell asleep, usually by gently moving her feet. It was never enough to bother him, no matter what kind of day they’d had. 

Cade had told him a long time ago that he had insomnia, but until now no remedy had truly worked. He’d spent years restless, thinking too much about everything, remembering so many awful things.

Yes, he still spent too much time unable to relax and shut down, but when he finally could sleep, his dreams were generally harmless. Not including the one where he’d woken up, grief-stricken, nearly in tears, grasping blindly for Lamb. 

She’d halfway woken up, comforted him, cuddled up to him, stroking his hair until she fell back asleep. He wondered if she remembered the tender moment or if she thought it was a dream. 

He started trying to relax himself bit by bit. Cade had tried to medicate him, but it was too difficult to keep consistent with how much he was in the field, not to mention dangerous.

Lamb, however, had given him advice. She had said that even if it didn’t work, didn’t help him get proper sleep, it would still be enough to keep him from being fried the next day.

Just lie down in the dark, get comfortable. Even out your breathing. Relax, start with your legs and move up. Keep your eyes closed and keep your mind clear. It’s like meditation but your goal is to get some sleep. If you can’t sleep, lying down and acting like you’re sleeping can be enough to get you through the day. I had to do that a lot when I started school. It’s like putting your brain on stand-by for a few hours.

He focused on Lamb, breathing in time with her. He followed her into sleep within the hour.


	4. whumptober day 4: “No, stop!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lamb has a nightmare

   Lamb was sitting on the floor in the corner of the counter and the old cafe booth.The concrete was hard and cold but she didn’t move. She didn’t know if she  _could_  move. 

   She’d gone back to an old habit, sitting on the floor to weep as quietly as she could in the dead of night.

   She’d thought maybe she’d slip this by Gage, that he wouldn’t have felt her flinch awake, that he wouldn’t have noticed her climbing out of the bed they shared, that he wouldn’t have heard the first strangled sob as she scurried out of the room.

   Her limbs felt deadened, her insides somehow hollow and heavy at the same time. She covered her mouth with one hand, screwed her eyes shut, and tried to control herself. 

   Lamb had dreamed about the concrete bunker again, the sounds of the ghouls as they were herded back into their cage surrounded her as she flashed forward to the first time she was restrained with cruel intent. 

   In the dreams, she could never feel the ropes that bound her to the steel chair, but she  _knew_ they were there. She could never see Anne’s face, just an obscure figure. But the scalpel,  _the scalpel,_  that was always crystal clear.

  Lamb almost always woke up after she’d screamed for mercy.

    _“No, please stop!”_

Lamb started when she felt something drop over her shoulders. She gasped through a sob as she looked up. Of course, she’d woken Gage. He’d draped a blanket over her.

   He didn’t say anything, just sat down next to her and looped his arm around her shoulders. He’d made a kind of routine for when she got like this. He needed the Overboss to be put together in front of the Raiders, so he’d been doing something he’d never done before.

    _Caring._


	5. whumptober day 5: poisoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lamb meets some stingwings

  Lamb had gone with Preston on a scouting run. They had left Sanctuary with the intention of checking a building on the far side on Concord for supplies, but were now faced with a small swarm of stingwings.

   Lamb had never even  _heard_  of stingwings, so she was rather surprised by these terrifying, Permian-esque scorpion-flies. 

   Preston was handling most of them, Lamb normally wasn’t quick enough with Righteous Authority to even graze the fast-moving insects. But a pair swooped at her repeatedly.

   She managed to burn a hole through the segmented abdomen of the larger of the two before she felt a blow between her shoulders. 

   At first, she’d thought Raiders had joined the fray, but as she turned from the dying bug skittering around on its back, she realized that the smaller one had plunged its stinger into her back. And it was still hanging on.

   She called for Preston, unable to take aim at the massive bug.

   He blasted the last of the swarm into ashes, and she saw his eyes widen when he spun around. He ran to her, ripped the stingwing off of her back, and stomped on it until there was no chance of its survival.

   Lamb was already feeling numb and woozy.  _Of course_  those things had to be venomous. “Is the stinger out?” She asked, her throat feeling disconnected from her mouth.

   “Yeah,” Preston replied. “Are you alright?” 

   “No,” she whimpered. “Let’s go home before another bug decides to carry me off.”

   Preston chuckled and looped his arm around her waist to support her on the walk back to their settlement.


	6. Whumptober day 6: Betrayed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The General is targeted

   The training patrol was split into two groups, Lamb and Jawbone took three Privates, Preston and Danse took three Privates. They’d left the Castle around noon, the sky was sunny and a vibrant blue, a great relief from the previous depressing days of gray clouds and constant rain.

   Lamb’s group was being shown a patrol route that guarded a caravan route. Preston’s was going on a scouting run. Both areas had been thoroughly swept during the rainy days, so Lamb was surprised when she heard the pops. She dropped behind an overturned mailbox. “Down!” She shouted.

   She thought that Raiders or whoever had jumped them, and peeped over in time to see Jawbone get knocked off his feet. Then she saw his shooter, turning his pistol on her. She jumped up from her cover and took aim with Kellogg’s old pistol. “Stand down, now!”

   It was one of the new Privates, with a cold look in his eye. His shot missed Lamb’s vital organs and tore through her side instead. The shock had worn off the other two Privates and allowed then to tackle him, too late to stop him but in time to save their General.

   Lamb gasped in agony as she jammed a single stimpack below her ribs. “Hold him!” She commanded as she limped to where Jawbone fell. She holstered her pistol.

   He had fallen into a pile of crumbling tires that had once been a barricade along the cracked sidewalk. A pair of freely-bleeding wounds was visible in the lower part of his chest and the uppermost part of his abdomen.

   “Hey, Mom,” He said weakly, trying to smile.

   “Hey, kiddo,” she responded, her own voice unsteady as she checked his pulse.

   She heard the trio struggling behind her as she dug out her last two stimpacks from her belt. She injected them both quickly into the areas above and below the wounds. He started to protest, knowing what she’d just done, but she carefully stood back up and approached the traitor.

   She dropped down to her knees, ignoring the pain in her still-bleeding side. “Mind telling me what the fuck you think you’re doing?”

   She was met with a malicious glare from the young man belly-down in the dirt.

   “Getting rid of the fucking Minutemen again.” He spat at her feet.

   “So you’re a Gunner.” She stated. The Gunners had been a real pain in the ass lately, going so far as trying to recruit unorganized Raiders. They wanted revenge for the work done by Lamb, MacCready, and Preston. “How many of yours are with the scouting patrol?”

   He responded with a hideously wide smile. “Enough.”

   Lamb pulled out the syringe of Med-X she’d been hiding and stuck it in his neck. He quieted in moments and she quickly got back to her feet. “Call for backup and a medic team. I’m going to find the other group.”

   She pressed her hand to her side and started to run.

 


	7. Whumptober day 7: Kidnapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jawbone is too chivalrous for his own good

   The Raiders had them surrounded before they even knew they were there. One moment they were searching through the large room for any salvage, the next their exit was bristling with makeshift weapons and malicious jeers.

   Ezra didn’t even get the chance to unsling his rifle. Jawbone kept himself between his boyfriend and the Raiders. He thought quickly.

   He could still get Ezra out of the building. There was a window right behind them, and the building was backed right up to deep water. They were only on the second floor. Jawbone started backing up, scooting Ezra along with him.

   Jawbone turned around, whispered a command into his love’s ear, and shoved him as hard as he could through the glassless frame.

   Ezra was suddenly weightless, his stomach in his throat, then suddenly his breath was knocked out of him, and water flooded his mouth and nose. He kicked his way to the surface, sputtering, and saw Jawbone silhouetted in the window he’d just been knocked out of. Jawbone repeated his command, desperately.

   “ _Run!”_

Ezra turned and awkwardly scrambled for the collapsed seawall nearby, but not before he saw his boyfriend bludgeoned with the butt of a rifle. Not before he watched Jawbone fall out of sight.

   Ezra ran.

   The ransom came that evening, while Ezra was discussing details with Preston, a runner delivered Lamb a parcel that contained a sloppily scribbled note and a bloodied bandana.

   The note demanded two thousand caps. The stained blue bandana was Jawbone’s; gifted to him by Lamb, he often wore it around his neck, a multipurpose cloth that often ended up wrapped around a minor wound. _This is my lucky Boo-Boo Bandana,_ he’d teased Ezra one morning while getting dressed.

   Ezra tied the cloth around his wrist. He checked his rifle.

   “I’m ready, General.”


	8. Whumptober Day 8: Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danse watches over his new Initiate

   Lamb had steadily gotten worse over the last few days and Danse was afraid he was already going to lose another of his squad.

   She was being cared for by a few of the Quincy survivors in addition to Danse. Mama Murphy, the batty old woman, stayed with her during most of the day. Marcy, acidic in her fresh grief, would bring lunch to them and often stayed in the room until Danse returned.

   He was helping build up the settlement’s automated defenses, and his worry gnawed at him as he helped Sturges assemble a clunky turret out of scrap.

   Danse returned late that afternoon, a bit proud of his work, and was informed that Lamb’s fever was peaking at a hundred and three.

   Her clothing and sheets were damp with sweat, small droplets running off her as she struggled out of her shorts. She seemed to be satisfied and collapsed back into bed. She was so foggy she didn’t notice Danse enter the room.

   He spent the evening with a basin of cold water and a cloth, wiping her face and leaving it folded on her forehead. Earlier, Mama Murphey had coaxed some broth into her while he hooked her up to an IV. She’d managed to mumble a greeting to Danse before passing back out.

   So now Danse was alone, sitting in the desk chair that was slightly too small for him, refreshing the cooling cloth and replacing it. He put his ear to her chest and wasn’t reassured by what he heard.

   He didn’t want to think about if the fever ended up killing her. He did think about how she’s meshed so well with the remnants of the squad.

   Most of her time in the Station was spent with Haylen, the two of them often working on some bit of technology or construction or gardening. Haylen had taught her how to repair the radio equipment after she and Danse returned with the satellite dish. Lamb had taught her how to revive and maintain soil for a garden, so they could use the weed-choked planters that surrounded the police station for early spring crops.

   Rhys even tolerated her, seemingly more so than he had tolerated his fallen squad mates. He would bring her along on ‘training runs,’ his way of assessing her worth. He kept taking her along, which meant he approved in his own way.

   Danse had been quite frustrated at first, she didn’t know much of what even a basic recruit should know. So when she’d admitted she was from a Vault, _a dead Vault,_ he’d wondered why he didn’t figure it out sooner.

   Danse had been so comfortable with her that he’d been slipping up, calling her _Knight_ rather than _Initiate._ It sometimes felt like she’d always been part of the squad. He dearly hoped Maxson would approve her.

She suddenly began to stir, letting out small sounds of distress. He assumed it was from the same nightmares that had plagued her since they’d met.

   He felt anger rising in him, she’d said the dreams were from what happened in her Vault before she left. He knew some of the atrocities the Vaults committed against their citizens, but he didn’t know what had happened to _her_ that left her so frightened _._

Lamb’s eyes suddenly opened, wildly searching, as she gasped and scrambled into the far corner of the bed.

   The sudden panic sent her into a coughing fit that lasted several minutes. Danse tried to help clear her lungs as best as he could. Her skin now felt hot and dry under his hands.

   When the fit finally ended, Danse helped her lie back down, rearranging some of the pillows. He held up a glass of water for her. She managed to drink most of it and fell back asleep, exhausted.

   He didn’t like that his Initiate was in such pain.

   Danse eventually decided it was safe to go shower. He returned within fifteen minutes, clean and partially relaxed.

   He refreshed the cooling cloth once more, leaning in to bring his lips nearly to her ear. _Break the fever. Recover. That’s an order._


	9. Whumptober Day 9: Stranded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready has an awful time

   He couldn’t figure out _why_ he’d agreed to come with Lamb to a monster-infested ghost ship. He couldn’t figure out _how_ he’d gotten surprised by one of the shadowy creatures that occupied the ship. And then, he thought as he sat alone in the wheelhouse, he couldn’t figure out _why_ he had chosen to wait here as Lamb went for help.

   The creature that had surprised him had ended up breaking some of his ribs and had done something to his leg, Lamb didn’t have the strength to help him down the rope ladder. So she’d had to take the little motor boat back to the dock by herself. _I’ll be back as soon as I can, Bobby, I promise!_

   And then she was over the side and MacCready realized how _alone_ he was as he heard the dinky motor fade into the fog. All he could hear was the faint lapping of the water against the hull, his heart, his breathing. He swore he could hear the stabbing pain that came with each breath.

   He cradled his rifle and watched the door. The creatures they’d encountered had stayed below decks, seeming to avoid the upper portions of the old ship. But he couldn’t be too careful.

   They’d come from the dark corners of the cramped corridors, bursting from bunks and behind displaced crates, barreling around corners and growling from behind long-locked doors. Lamb and MacCready has shrieked in surprise, opening fire at the first attackers.

   When the last of the strange bodies had stopped twitching, Lamb had turned to him. “These don’t look like ferals, Bobby.”

   “Then what the _heck_ are they? Mutated monkeys?” He’d replied with incredulity, unable to shake the thought that these things looked a lot like _children. Mutated,_ maybe, but still, the thought haunted him.

   “Don’t know,” She’d shrugged, starting to drag a body from the pile. “We can take this one up top and poke at it, see if we can figure it out.”

   MacCready had groaned in disgust as Lamb wrapped the thing up in a stained tarp and hauled it up several flights of steeps stairs and struggled it up a ladder. He groaned again when he realized that he was downwind of it. It _stank_.

   Lamb had set the body down in front of the wheelhouse under a floodlight and had started examining it. Now that it was visible, and quite dead, MacCready relaxed, but didn’t sling his rifle. He kept watch while Lamb made various noises of distaste and discovery.

   “Hey, Bobby,I think you were right,” She said suddenly while inspecting its broken teeth. “Look. Short legs, long arms. And remember how fucking _fast_ they were?” She folded the tarp back over the corpse. “This might have been some kind of research vessel, and their lab monkeys survived the War. I think we woke a bunch of them up.”

   And then everything had gone wrong when they returned below decks. An enormous ghoulish monkey had slammed into him from an unnoticed open doorway as he’d passed by. It was on him, striking him in the chest with what felt like bricks before he even knew what had happened.

   Lamb had shot the thing in the head before it could beat MacCready to death in front of her. Lamb had hit him with a dose of Med-X before half-carrying him up the stairs.

   And now MacCready was alone, in dull agony and catching a chill. This absolutely _sucked._

   He didn’t realize how long he’d been stranded on the ship until he heard the faint engine noise of a vertibird. Lamb certainly had her hands in all the right places. He checked one of his watches and saw that Lamb had been gone for nearly two and a half hours. He groaned.

   _Finally._

   He was getting off this cursed ship.


	10. Whumptober Day 10: Bruises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gage gets hit

   Lamb had gotten herself separated from Gage in the confines of the water treatment plant. The Raider gang that moved in after Lamb and Cait cleared out a bunch of feral ghouls was particularly stubborn. They wore heavy armor, looking a lot like the Rust Devils that had been plaguing the Commonwealth of late.

   She could still hear him, at least, swearing and shouting creative insults between shotgun blasts.

   The wall of Raiders between them was dwindling, as they fell or fled. Lamb was tucked behind a concrete pillar, reloading, when she heard the distinct sounds of a melee fight. She heard Gage grunt as he was struck multiple times.

   She hurriedly fired on the remainder of the Raiders in the hall and; ignoring the cries of dying and wounded Raiders, rushed to find Gage.

   He was down on one knee, grappling with a massive Raider. They were the same size as Danse, maybe even larger. Gage was losing, his teeth bared, his arms straining and shaking as they were pushed back. He was seconds away from being flat on his back when Lamb double tapped the big Raider.

   Lamb’s shock came after he pushed the body away and turned to her. The left side of his face had taken the brunt of the blows that had rained upon him, his good eye already swelling and discolored. His lip was split and he spat blood in the direction of the corpse.

   “Gage?”

   “’m fine, Boss,” he mumbled.

   By the time they reached the old Graygarden house, Gage’s face was so swollen he could barely see. He could only slur and mumble when he spoke. Lamb gave him all of her chemical ice packs, one at a time, as she guided him back to the small waystation. He was miserable and trying to hide it, poorly. Lamb led him to the bunk area that one of the patrols set up in the basement. The first floor had been made into a kitchen/mess/storage area.

   Lamb cleaned his face up as best she could, checking his teeth for fear that he’d gotten one knocked loose. _Bit my cheek_ , was his attempt to wave her away from prying his pained mouth open. She found that he was right, and stuck an ice cube through his lips for him to suck on while she continued her examination.

   Gage had caught the very edge of the butt of the Raider’s rifle, leaving him with a goose egg near his left temple. His lip was split and puffed up. His left eye was swollen shut and in full color. There was also a group of vicious marks in the soft spot under his ribs.

   Lamb had wiped his face clean, liberally applied antiseptic where needed, and dosed him with Med-X before giving him a glass of water with a metal straw in it. He gratefully drained the glass.

   It was a while before Lamb stood up, leaving Gage to fall asleep in the bunk. She was fretting, one hand cupping her elbow and the other cupping her jaw, when she noticed Gage was looking at her.

   He was nearly asleep, the visible sliver of his eye trained on her. Gage was watching her with almost sheepish affection as the rather large dose of Med-X knocked him out.

   Lamb felt her shoulders relax and her breath puffed out in a relieved sigh. She got another cold pack from the first aid kit on the wall, wrapped it in a thin cloth, and gently laid it on his face.

   She carefully cupped his jaw on the uninjured side and rubbed her thumb across his cheek. She pulled a blanket over him and left him to rest.


	11. Whumptober Day 11: Hypothermia/ Day 24: Drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lamb and cold water don’t mix

   She’d been knocked out and clear of the vertibird by a missile, down into the icy river. The battle was nearly over, the Gunners having quickly lost their numbers to the Brotherhood’s air superiority. Lamb was looking down the short scope of Righteous Authority, trying to spot the shooters on the bridge, when suddenly it felt like the bird had been t-boned by a truck, and she was airborne.

   Lamb crashed down into the freezing water, getting the air knocked out of her, narrowly missing a small ice floe. She couldn’t surface immediately, the shock of the water was too much, holding her breathe was all she could do. Her legs refused to kick her towards the dim light above her.

   She thrashed her arm guards off, then reached down and tore loose the straps of the heavy leg guards dragging her down. Then she forced her legs to work, kicking into the fading sunlight above. When she breached the surface, a new problem met her.

   She’d landed in the middle of the river, cold gray water stretching out in all directions.

   The current was sweeping her downstream, quickly enough that anyone near the bridge where the craft went down wouldn’t see her. An added hazard was the debris in the water, both from the battle and the accumulation of the past two hundred years. A body dressed in Gunner green floated past her.

   Lamb struggled to keep her head above water while she started swimming towards shore. It wasn’t working very well; night had fallen, the current was strong, the water was freezing, and she was wounded.

   Her head kept going under, she was choking on the filthy water and expending precious energy coughing it up. She was afraid that if she stopped paddling and tried pulling her chest plate off, she’d never make it back to the surface.

   She didn’t know how long she’d been treading water before a buoyant chunk of something drifted into reach. She lunged weakly, draping herself over it. There wasn’t much energy left in her, the cold had efficiently drained her.

   Lamb gave up and floated in the dark. She could hear vertibirds in the distance. She was certain she’d be washed out to sea rather than be found, a small dot alone in the inky blackness.

   Eventually, Lamb stopped moving, and she could hear the sound of water lapping. Her face was barely breaking the surface. She blacked out and dreamed of the Vault she’d been entombed in. She snapped awake when the door of her pod slammed shut.

   She closed her eyes again, exhausted. She hadn’t been able to feel her limbs for a while. She couldn’t care. There wasn’t enough energy for her clouded mind to be afraid, to worry, and to wonder if Haylen would have to tell Danse that Lamb had gone and died on him because of the Brotherhood.

   Heat began to burn her inside and out, and she _knew,_ she knew that was _very_ bad. But she couldn’t care.

   Suddenly there was light, and Lamb thought she was finally dying. But then she heard familiar shouting, and her icy body was being moved. That familiar voice was saying her name.

   _Danse?_

   Lamb’s last thought faded as she drifted back into the cold darkness.


	12. Whumptober Day 12: Electrocution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curie crosses a wire

   Lamb called out to Curie, too late. The robot took the full brunt of the tesla rifle’s blast to her spherical body. There was the sound of her voice module, not her voice but a digital scream. Then she folded up into herself and tumbled to the ground.

   _“Curie!”_

   No response, save for the metallic screech of the strange Raider’s last remaining creation. It had a human skull, the eyes still in the sockets, mounted in a rusty metal casing that once was an assaultron’s head. It had lawn mower blades welded onto a pair of hydraulic wings as though they were feathers. The robot’s claws looked like a mismatch between a protectron and an assaultron.

   The robot’s main weapon was a tesla rifle, having missed Lamb repeatedly, it had screeched in frustration and took aim at Curie. It hit her dead-on.

   Lamb was terrified, she’d never seen anything like this before, though she hadn’t been in the Commonwealth long. But no one had ever even mentioned something like this robot. If they survived long enough to reach Goodneighbor, she’d ask around there.

   She desperately wished Danse was with her.

   The robot was thankfully quite damaged, having been in another fight before meeting Lamb and Curie. It seemed to be on its last legs, gears grinding and the smell of burning oil coming from its splintered body.

   Lamb finished it off with a few more rounds pumped into its chest and darted to where Curie had dropped.

   “Curie?”

   No response from the sweet lab robot that had quickly become her friend. Lamb pulled her backpack off and dug around for a repair kit. Haylen had helped her put it together for equipment like radios, but it was all she had to help Curie.

   About forty-five minutes of tinkering later, Lamb nearly cried in relief as Curie came back online, her jet firing up and scorching Lamb’s boot. She was still badly damaged, Lamb couldn’t fix her, especially without materials and tools. They’d have to get to their goal in Goodneighbor before Curie shorted out for good.

   It took until midnight for the pair to make it to the town, Lamb supporting Curie by her spindly arms as she could. When they walked through the reinforced steel door, Lamb heard a man sneering at them through her exhaustion. She had no idea what he was saying, so she continued hauling her robot companion towards where Nick had said the Memory Den was.

   That’s when things got confusing for Lamb and concerning for Curie. The man was threatening them with violence (Lamb thought, she couldn’t be sure,) and then another man walked up, one in a long red coat. Lamb could clearly hear his rough voice, and then in a moment of clarity she read his body language, and scooted Curie behind her.

   The man in the red coat stabbed the first man, then started conversing with Lamb as he wiped the knife off with an old rag. He paused when he saw that Lamb looked like she was about to fall over, and also that she was trying to hide a badly damaged Miss Nanny behind her.

   “You, uh, need some help?” he asked.

   “Is Doctor Amari home?” Lamb asked, sounding small.

   It was only then, when he looked taken aback, that Lamb even realized that he was a ghoul.

   “Yeah, she’s right around the corner. You can’t miss the Memory Den.”

   Lamb thanked him and ferried Curie quickly to the Doctor. Doctor Amari was shocked at the pair’s entrance and their appearance. Lamb was small, skinny, and covered in scorch marks and various fluids that came from both Curie and the abomination. Curie was a half-functioning Miss Nanny, half her casing broken off, one of her arms dangled limply at the “wrist.”

   Curie had wanted to try and find a synth body to transfer into, but now she was definitely going to have to, since her robot body was so broken. Lamb just hoped Curie would last until they found a suitable synth.


	13. Whumptober Day 14: Torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lamb tells a little about Far Harbor

   Lamb was surrounded by many of the people she loved, Curie and X6 curled in the bed with her. Curie was tucked under her arm, hugging Lamb’s belly. X6 rested his head on her shoulder so she could run her nails across his scalp. If he were any more catlike than he already was, he’d be purring.

   Danse had just arrived in the Castle’s hospital, dragging his preferred chair over. With Lamb down, Preston and Danse were left in charge of the Minutemen’s daily operations. Preston was still getting reports from their evening patrols. Danse had assigned the first shift night patrols.

   Hancock lounged on a loveseat that had broken legs, only showing mild awkwardness whenever he spoke to Lamb when the others were around. Lamb hadn’t been well enough and they hadn’t had much time alone to talk about what was left of their relationship.

   Gage was napping in a recliner on one side of Lamb’s bed, she had no idea where he’d gotten it from or when it had been brought into the subterranean hospital. He’d mostly stayed near her and within the walls of the Castle since he’d hunted down the infiltrator that had nearly killed her.

   She hadn’t been told the whole story yet, but Preston had described Gage as a _vicious, rabid dog._

 The surviving Gunner was being held in a temporary brig, which was a large metal cage shoved in the corner of a storage space. Lamb didn’t concern herself with him. He’d be dealt with sooner or later.

   Curie had asked her, after running her fingers around the seam-like scar that ran around where Lamb’s arm met her shoulder. _Oh Love, what did she do to you?_

   And Lamb eventually answered, her voice small and pained. She’d been gently asked quite a few times before, but she’d never answered.

   Gage had awoken, and Preston had come in by then, looking frazzled. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard what Lamb had said.

   _“She started with my hand and pulled off my fingernails. I lost those first.”_

Everyone was silent as she continued. X6 sat up and scooted so he was able to almost cradle her.

   _“She broke my fingers one by one.”_ Lamb gestured at her fingers one by one.

  _“Then she started on my eye. Every sound I made excited the ferals she had caged up in the other room. They’d growl and screech and then she’d leave me tied to the chair while she fed them. When she first started cutting my fingers off she gave them to her favorite as a treat.”_

Lamb paused to wipe her eyes, Curie trying to tell her she didn’t have to continue. Lamb waved away her concerns and kept going. Hancock moved from the loveseat and pulled a metal folding chair up to the end of the hospital bed. He looked agitated.

   Lamb thought he ought to be, since he’d admitted earlier that he believed her to be dead, which was why he did what he did. But then again, _everyone_ looked agitated.

 _“She cauterized the stumps, but she didn’t bother cleaning them first. She just wanted to focus on my eye. She didn’t like my eyes, she said they were_ too much like hers. _She cut it out cleanly, at least._ ”

   Lamb paused again, swallowing thickly, and noticed that Hancock’s face was shadowed in a _very_ dark mood.

   “John?” she asked hoarsely.

   “…I never told you,” He swallowed dryly and flicked his eyes around the room. “A box came to Goodneighbor addressed to me. It had two of your fingers and your eye in it. And a note.”

   _“Fuck,_ John, why didn’t you say anything?” Lamb’s already hoarse voice cracked and gave out before she could make her next point, _why did you let yourself suffer alone?_

   The only audible sound of the occupants in the room was their breathing. Everyone but Gage looked quite shocked and angry, although he looked like he was still mulling something over.

   “Why the fuck would she send that to you?” Lamb regained her voice enough for an angry question.

   “To make him suffer as well,” Danse quietly answered.

   “I ran with her for barely more than a week, she acted like she owned me by the time I left for home. That Institute asshole took her jealousy and fucking weaponized it.” Hancock’s voice trembled with pained anger.

   Their conversation continued into the evening, Lamb trying to coax Hancock into revealing more about what he’d done while she’d been away. He tried to ask her more about her recovery in the Institute. X6 filled in for Lamb initially, there was almost a solid month that she just didn’t remember.

   Around midnight, X6 climbed out of the bed to go shower. He gave Hancock a meaningful glance as he headed through the tunnels back to the General’s Quarters. Curie was gently kicked out by Lamb, telling her to go get a real meal.

   Hancock hesitantly walked over to Lamb’s bed, where she reached up to his face. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. After a long moment, he crawled into her bed and nestled against her.


	14. Whumptober Day 15: Manhandling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’ve gotta help! They’ve kidnapped my friend!”

   Lamb sighed and slung Righteous Authority over her shoulder. This was just one of many emergencies going on between the growing numbers of settlements under her supervision.

   On several occasions, the kidnapping reports turned out false, the supposed victim having been caught in a big lie in an attempt to cover up a secret lover. Sometimes the secret lover _was_ actually a raider, and Lamb had arrived to find an amused gang and a shocked couple. But more often than not, the reports were true, and either Lamb and her companions or a Minuteman squad had to go retrieve the victim.

   Unfortunately for Lamb, who had wanted to return to the Castle by dark, this report was real and she was alone. Fortunately, she knew the gang and where they were hiding. She’d dealt with them before and had them intimidated, but not intimidated quite enough, apparently.

   The gang called themselves “The Bears,” a name that bore no image of strength or toughness, but one of Lamb’s middle school mascot. It also didn’t help that they were teenagers and there were only three of them.

   MacCready had nearly peed himself laughing when he and Lamb first encountered them. Their leader was a baby-faced teenager that introduced himself as Teddy.

   MacCready had nearly lost it at the boy’s cutesy name, but only started laughing after they’d left the gang’s hideout. His chortling trailed off and he switched to discussing the layout and fortifications of the shacks built among the partially collapsed department store.

   Despite their previous humor with the gang, Lamb was now concerned that they might be posing a real threat, or that they were doing some real stupid shit to try and show some muscle.

   Lamb pinged the nearest outpost with an update from her Pip-Boy and headed for the Bears’ hideout.

   It didn’t take much for the gang to cower before her, since they were all teenagers and were all familiar with Lamb’s reputation. Though they seemed well-versed with her as the _Overboss_ rather than the General.

   When she approached the hideout, she came up on the blind side she and Bobby identified. Lamb could hear some panicked conversation.

   _“Why did you take_ him? _He’s from one of the Overboss’s farms! She’s gonna come skin us alive!”_

 _“No, she’s not! She’s the_ Overboss, _she should be proud of us!”_

Lamb heard a sharp _smack_ as the first teenager slapped the second one. She wasn’t totally surprised at their stupidity. Some groups of Raiders had gotten themselves wiped out after she’s returned to the Commonwealth trying to gain her favor. It seems that action only strengthened her Raider reputation, rather than show a no-tolerance policy as the General of the Minutemen.

   Lamb had an idea. It could, of course, go horribly wrong, but she had enough faith in her fearsome reputation for this to succeed.

   She turned the corner and slipped into the building. The group of teenage boys hadn’t assigned any guards, laid any traps, or blocked entrances. Lamb assumed they were from a larger town, either Diamond City or one of the port towns she’d come across. The sloppy setup of their base smacked of privileged lives and both ignorance and arrogance.

   She didn’t bother drawing a weapon.

   Lamb tiptoed her way to the entrance of the tin shack where the conversation had been coming from. Through a gap in the wall, she could see the farmer, his clothing torn and filthy from when he’d been literally dragged away from his home. In front of him were the pair she’d overheard, now joined by their leader.

   She could see all three boys were terribly afraid, the exact behavior of teenage boys that acted big and tough, but were about to get in massive trouble with their mothers.

   Lamb stepped into the doorway, hands on her hips.

   _“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”_ she bellowed. She emulated the way her dad would shout at her sisters when they fucked up, using his tone and expression.

   The wannabe Raiders cowered. The farmer looked relieved.

   “We, uh, we just wanted…” the boy with a red mark on his face stammered.

   Teddy cut in, trying to save the situation. “We’re showing everybody that we mean business!”

   Lamb slapped him. He stepped back, hand on his face, wide-eyed in shock.

   “Take this man back to his farm safe and sound or I will _personally_ skin each and every one of you and use your hides for a nice coat.” She watched the other two scramble to lift the farmer to his feet and untie him. “Bring back the things you stole, too.”

   Teddy, now standing near a jumble of crates, started to object. Lamb silenced him with a menacing glance.

   He blanched and started cramming things into a bag.

   Lamb pulled her first aid kit off her belt and tended to the farmer. The teenage thugs had beaten him when they kidnapped him, leaving him with a swollen, bruised face and a number of sore spots.

   As soon as she finished tending to the man, she turned back to the now-timid gang.

   “Now, I’m going to wait here for you three to return. If you aren’t back within the hour, if I find out that he was harmed, or didn’t make it home, I’ll raze this place and hunt you down one by one.”

   Lamb sauntered over to a cluster of patio chairs, tables, and a sofa ringing a small fire pit. She checked her Pip-Boy.

   “Clock starts now, boys!” she called to them.

   They scrambled for the main entrance to the building, the farmer stumbling along with them.


	15. Whumptober Day 16: Bedridden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaun’s final days break Lamb’s heart

 

   He couldn’t walk anymore. He could barely sit up on his own.

   Shaun was _really_ dying.

   Lamb had known this since her first conscious minute in the Institute, but over a year since, she just wasn’t prepared. No one ever was, she supposed.

   It’d been a little over two months since her hasty return from Far Harbor. Her shoulder itched at the graft and the skin of her arm was a blank white. The scar on her eyelid pulled almost painfully when she squeezed her eye shut hard enough. The rest of her physical scars and wounds were healing nicely enough, or so she was told.

   Shaun had visited her room as often as he could while she was bedridden. In the later days of her immobility he’d been in a pristinely white wheelchair, pushed by his synth assistant. Shaun knew him as S3-73, Lamb knew his name to be Sam.

   Lamb was spending her time curled up in a large, comfortable chair shoved close to his hospital bed. She thought the bed looked more like an iron lung, since Shaun was mostly covered up under the hood of the thing. It concealed some of the many tubes and wires connected to him, but other than that, Lamb didn’t know _why_ the bed was the way it was.

   It was one of the things she thought about to try and calm herself from the heavy dread. X6 stayed with her, she didn’t think he’d been more than ten feet from her since he’d found her in the bunker on the island.

   Shaun was happy that X6 was such a good match for Lamb. He didn’t seem to realize the true nature of their relationship. If he did, Lamb didn’t think he’d really be surprised, seeing how many of the scientists treated the synths they worked closely with. It disgusted Lamb and she’d assigned Coursers to watch over those synths. The Coursers weren’t too happy about it, but they got her desired results.

   Shaun spent a week being carefully tended to by both synth and human caretakers. The humans gave Lamb pitying looks when they thought she wasn’t paying attention. The synths offered quiet sympathies to their future Director.

   At the end of that week, it was clear to everyone that Shaun wasn’t recovering from this latest development, and Shaun stopped all nearly all of his medications and all of his treatments. The only drugs he took after that were painkillers and the occasional antacid.

   Lamb stayed close to him after he made that decision. He was essentially in the final stages of hospice care, turning down anything that might prolong his life, and by extension, his suffering. She’d overheard him speaking to one of the doctors, she couldn’t remember who; but he’d briefly lamented his short time with Lamb, that he couldn’t continue training her. Barely over a year to know his aunt, his only surviving pre-War family, before he died.

   That had left a weighted ache in her chest as she tried to read one of Shaun’s books at his bedside. The past week had been of steady decline. Shaun could drink but not eat, and requested that he be given a drink with his minimum daily nutrient requirements in it. Two days after that, however, he had started to fade so much that even drinking was impossible.

   Lamb had been around family members at this stage, her grandmother after a fairly short battle with advanced skin cancer, a few older cousins after lifetimes of booze and pills, an elderly family member simply falling apart shortly after reaching the snowbird home he and his wife spent their winters in.

   Lamb and some of her family had visited him at the end, when he was mostly unconscious and barely aware when he was conscious. He’d been taken off all IVs, marked DNR as requested, and died a day or two after their visit.

   Lamb remembered the smell of the room, the mild hysteria affecting his wife, the way it had felt to know that both their suffering was finally at an end.

   Shaun looked like a ghoulish version of the man she’d met when she first woke in the Institute. He’d been mostly concealed in a lab suit, since her immune system required her to be kept in isolation until she was strong enough, but his visor had been clear. The robust, olive-skinned man had lost his muscle tone and his color could only be described as _curdled._ As the cancer progressed unchecked, he looked more and more like the desiccated corpse of the former General that Lamb and Ronnie had found under the Castle.

   The day before Shaun died, he managed to talk with Lamb for a while, telling her he wanted to be buried alongside his parents in the graveyard near Vault 111. If he’d left Lamb in the vault, he would still be the surface-wary scientist he’d been, incinerated after a brief ceremony, and then the ashes would be used in fertilizer for the trees filling common space and passageways.

   His voice was barely a croak, and Lamb had to have her ear by his lips to understand what he was saying. _I’m proud of who you’ve become, Auntie. You’re going to bring the Institute further than I could._

   Lamb and X6 were by Shaun’s side when he sighed quietly and flatlined, Lamb’s thin hand in his.


	16. Whumptober Day 18: Hostage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jawbone isn’t too fond of the raiders who kidnapped him

 

   The back of his head hurt like a bitch, he could feel a thick knot forming where the butt of the rifle had met his skull. His ribs were badly bruised, if not broken, and his face felt like ground meat.

   But Ezra was safe.

   He overheard the idiots talking about the caps they could get for him, trying to write a ransom note. _Amateurs,_ he thought. _Leading an army right to their front door._

The Raider group he’d been born into had been _smart_ , in a sense, since any kidnappings were handled in another location. Never in their home.

   Jawbone was bound at his wrists and ankles, gagged with some kind of wadded-up cloth, and left lying on his side on a filthy mattress. _I gotta ask Ezra to surprise me like this sometime._

   They didn’t send a runner with the message for a while. The cowards thought they were biding their time, upping their captive’s price. All they were doing was annoying Jawbone and allowing Lamb to put together a team to wipe this gang from existence.

   One of them, probably the dumbest one, kept trying to talk to Jawbone, mocking him. All he got in return was a solid kick in the knees from the bound Minuteman. Jawbone spat out his gag chuckling as the Raider fell to the floors, squealing and clutching at his broken knee.

   Jawbone was still laughing as the other raced into the room. One of them put a solid kick into his abdomen, shutting him up. They dragged their crying companion out of sight.

   He groaned on the floor as the remaining man stood over him.

   “We’re gonna get good fuckin’ caps for your ass. Don’t matter if you’re dead or alive. Behave if you wanna be alive.”

   _Oh buddy, I am gonna make your life_ hell _if the General lets you live._

   It wasn’t much longer before he heard the sounds of a raid. All but one of the Raiders rushed out of the room.

   Lamb was notorious for sneaking into the middle of a hive before opening fire. As the precise shots of the Minutemen grew closer, he remembered her telling him at first it had always been accidental, that she’d just wander in before finding anyone and realizing her mistake. Danse and Preston were always horrified by those stories.

   The raid only seemed to last about five minutes, Ezra finally bursting in the door and popping a few rounds into the Raider standing between him and Jawbone. “Hey Babe,” Jawbone greeted him cheerfully, bloody drool running from his mouth.

   “Oh dear god, _Jawbone!”_ Was Ezra’s horrified response.


	17. Whumptober Day 19: Exhaustion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lamb wakes up after her night in the water

   She didn’t feel cold. She didn’t feel warm, but now she was dry, and there was a very heavy blanket on her. She started moving, trying to curl up, but her limbs were stiff, and one arm seemed to be stuck.

   Lamb woke up fully when someone put a hand on her face and shone a light in her eyes. “Sentinel? How are you feeling?”

   Lamb tried to answer, but all that came out was a hoarse croak, then a soft groan as the pain and aching hit her. Her throat felt both raw and parched.

   “As expected…” The voice trailed off thoughtfully until there was the sound of approaching boots. Lamb finally realized she was in the Prydwen’s sickbay, and that it had been Proctor Cade trying to blind her.

   Lamb heard a conversation, recognizing Maxson’s low tone. She then remembered the voice calling her name while she was in the water. It had been _him._ _Maxson_ had been the one to pull her out of the water.

   She felt a hand on her restrained hand, and finally opened her eyes to see Maxson. She also saw that her arm was cuffed to prevent her from rolling over and tearing out the IV line. “Arthur?”

   _“Lamb,”_ his voice is almost a sigh in his relief. “You nearly drowned and you were badly hypothermic. It took half the night to warm you back up.” He cupped her hand, feeling how _cool_ it still was. “The Scribes removed quite a bit of shrapnel from you.”

   Lamb tried to remember the events of the battle, mostly coming up with partial scenes with fuzzy detail; the fiery vertibird as she fell away from it, the expanse of water surrounding her, the invasive memories of the Vault.

   She realized he was rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. His hand was warm, it felt nice to have human contact. Beneath the drowsiness brought on by her exhaustion, she fought against _nice_ feelings brought on by _Arthur._

   He’d developed a crush on her since they’d first met, but Lamb only learned of it _after_ it had intensified into infatuation, _after_ he’d condemned Danse.

   Lamb was too weak, physically and mentally, to tell him to fuck off.

   A few minutes later, Cade gently interrupted Maxson’s recount of the night before to change out the heating pads. Lamb realized the heavy blanket she was under was actually Arthur’s coat as Cade lifted it and the white hospital sheets to swap out the cooled pads and bottles for fresh ones.

   Wonderful warmth bloomed across Lamb’s body as the pads were refreshed and the blankets and coat were laid back down on her. She closed her eyes and sighed in comfort.

   She wished she was cuddled up to Danse in their bed, rather than _here_ , with _Arthur._

   But his company would have to do, for now.


	18. Whumptober Day 20: Concussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for Lamb to leave Nuka World

   Mags and the last of her gang had popped out of seemingly nowhere. She’d dropped from the Marketplace catwalk above Lamb and Gage, using her rifle as a club. Gage covered Lamb and went down hard, his head split so badly Lamb could see the white gleam of his skull.

   Lamb let loose a feral scream, drawing the sword that Oswald had given her, and started swinging at the other woman. Mags was grinning wickedly, delighted by Lamb’s reaction to her right-hand-man being struck down.

   The mixed Disciples and Pack members that had tagged along with them to sweep Nuka Town opened fire on the swarming Operators. Lamb paid the bloodthirsty Raiders no mind.

   She wanted to rip Mags apart.

   Mags popped a few shots at Lamb’s feet, trying to make the Overboss dance like a fool. Instead, she got a bullet in her shoulder from one of the enslaved Traders who’d grabbed a pistol from a downed Operator.

   The Traders picked up weapons and fired on the Operators as well, getting what revenge they could without facing the wrath of the loyal gangs.

   Disciples hooted as Lamb swept the blade across Mag’s belly, slicing through her inadequate armor and flesh. Pack members whooped and hollered as Mags dropped her rifle and fell to one knee.

   Lamb swung the blade like a baseball bat and took the sadist’s head clean off.

   The surviving Operators froze and a few of them cried out. The Traders quickly dropped the weapons they’d been using, looking fearful of punishment.

   Lamb was coated in a spray of fresh blood. She pointed her sword at the nearest Raider.

   “Get the keys for the collars,” she ordered. The Pack pup scurried off.

   He returned in less than five minutes, shaking with excitement as he handed the Overboss the requested keys. Lamb stood from where she tended Gage.

   “What’s gonna happen here,” she started, her voice carrying across the Marketplace, “is these traitorous little _fucks_ are going to be wearing the collars from now on. The Traders are all mine now.”

   There were vicious cheers as Operators were forced to their knees. Lamb freed the Traders one by one, they didn’t flee or shy away from the unhappy and restless Raiders. She handed the open collars to a gleeful Disciple, who draped them over her arm to hold them all.

   Lamb then went to each of the traitors, collared them, and found she had a few extra Operators. She thought for a moment, Gage’s condition eating at her. She needed to be quick about this.

   “These assholes are going to the arena. They’re your toys now, but you’d better make them last.”

   The next morning, as Lamb and the caravan of Traders headed out the front gates of Nuka World, they passed by Mags and William’s tarred heads, one staked on each side of the main entrance.

   Two of the free Traders carried a stretcher that bore Gage, his head cleaned and patched. But he’d only been briefly regaining consciousness since his injury and no one in Nuka World could provide the medical care he needed.

   So Lamb decided to leave for a while, giving strict instructions to her underlings. Their Overboss would return eventually. So they had better behave, lest their heads join the Black siblings. She knew that her Raiders were sore over losing their meeker toys, but she thought they’d be more satisfied by tormenting the Operators.

   There had been some grumbling over the Traders, some very bold Disciples openly questioning Lamb. Lamb, covered in half-dried blood spray, swung her sword at the nearest troublemaker. His neck was sliced halfway through, spurting even more blood onto Lamb. _Anyone else have any questions?_

When Lamb was met with silence from all parties, she gathered her Traders to plan.

   There was an outpost between the Nuka Transit Station and the hive of Rust Devils that was a mix of former Raiders, Institute defectors, and runaway synths. They had the medical expertise and supplies to save Gage. Lamb explained to Harvey about the settlement while she watched over Gage on the tram. It could be their home once they all recovered.

   Eventually, Lamb set her bedroll next to Gage’s stretcher. She lay down facing him, and rested her hand on his chest to assure herself that he was still breathing. She fell asleep, feeling his heart beating under her hand.


	19. Whumptober Day 25: Restraints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lamb finds herself in trouble

   The last thing she’d seen was a solid wall of feral ghouls coming straight at her. Nick and Longfellow were at the other end of the old campground, surrounded by ghouls, firing nonstop. Lamb had been with X6, but had gotten separated when an enormously bloated, gangrenous ghoul had tackled him and knocked him out of sight.

   Lamb couldn’t see after that, but could feel the ghouls tearing at her armor as she was pulled along, she could hear the growls and snarls as they fought over who got to drag her. She wished she couldn’t s _mell_ them.

   And now she was… _somewhere_ , somewhere cold and slightly damp.

   She was tied to a hard chair, wherever she was. Bound at the wrists, ankles and even around her middle, she opened her eyes to an aged concrete room. Probably one of the many old bunkers hidden throughout the island.

   As she looked around she realized this one was different from the ones she’d explored. This one seemed reminiscent of a military police post, with her sitting in what might be the interrogation room. There was a heavy steel door in her sight, and she could twist her head around enough to see a mirrored window behind her. She realized her armor and warm outer layers were missing. Even her boots were gone.

   _Oh this is bad._

   Her stomach was soured, she was trying to stay calm. She didn’t know who in the hell would snatch her like this. Certainly not Trappers, not super mutants, not anyone she knew to be on this island.

   Lamb heard the door shriek its way open and whipped her head around. A woman stood in the doorway, looking completely ordinary. Lamb guessed that she was a little taller than her, with near-black hair that went past her shoulders, olive skin with no visible scars. Her face split into a vicious smile when she saw that Lamb was awake.

   “Hello, Lamb,” she said, sounding exactly like an icy suburban mom, but one that had far worse things in mind than calling the police. Lamb thought she would’ve fit right in with Nate and Serina’s Pre-War cul-de-sac.

   Lamb was suddenly very afraid of this very ordinary-looking woman.

   “You came here with Nick, right? That’s a shame, I really liked him. But I can’t quite control my pets once I let them loose.”

   “Wh-what?” Lamb forced the words out.

   “I brought you here!” She smiled pleasantly, like she’d invited Lamb over for a nice dinner. Lamb pulled a bit at the rough ropes around her wrists. They held fast as the woman continued.

   “Doctor Ayo told me a lot about you, I thought it was time we met face to face.”

   “Ayo?” Lamb said quietly, confused. She and Ayo had always had hostility between them, but how did this woman fit in? Was she one of his synths?

   Lamb got her answer immediately.

   “I’m Anne, I’m sure you’ve already heard about me.”

   _Anne._ Of course, she was the synth hurriedly repurposed and placed into the Vault to continue the Institute’s experiment. She’d taken Lamb’s place when Lamb nearly died. She’d taken the news of her being a synth _hard,_ abandoning her newfound friends and disappearing into the Commmonwealth.

   Ayo must’ve taken possession of her at some point; doing some more work on her vulnerable mind, taking the bad feelings already in her and amplifying them, twisting them into something he could use against the pesky Director-in-training.

   Anne had become Ayo’s puppet and she didn’t even know.

   Lamb trembled as Anne stepped closer, the unsettling smile still stretched wide.


	20. Whumptober Days 26/27: Broken ribs/ “I can’t walk”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danse has a bad time

   Lamb had found him, finally, after hearing his weak cries from under the debris. They’d gotten caught in the crossfire between a gang of Raiders and a group of super mutants. Someone among them had a Fat Man launcher.

   The pair had been sneaking their way under the overhang of one of the store fronts when there was a sudden, ear-shattering explosion.

   Lamb was thrown into an empty doorway, her armor taking the damage for her, her synth helmet cracking. When she opened her eyes, she was alone and buried under rotten wood from the ceiling.

   “Danse?” she coughed.

   Lamb was terrified. What if she’d lost him? What if she couldn’t find him? Her anxieties were rapidly growing into animal panic. Then she heard a muffled sound from the remains of the overhang outside.

   Danse wasn’t in his armor, and that fear had fueled Lamb as she tore through the rubble, hoping she’d find him still alive and uncrushed. She lost a glove as she threw bits and pieces aside, and didn’t notice as a fingernail ripped free.

   _“Danse?”_ she called again, and thankfully, he responded.

   She uncovered his legs first, finding a support post had deflected the heavier debris from him, but the support post itself had knocked into his chest. Lamb had to wedge herself under the post and lift it with her whole body, heaving it to the side.

   Danse was sitting mostly upright, caked in dust and grime, looking like a ghost. He wheezed and Lamb knew immediately that he had multiple broken ribs. She was going to have to be _very_ careful to avoid hurting him further. The thought of puncturing a lung loomed over her as she scrambled to check him over.

   “Danse? Can you open your eyes?” Lamb’s voice was trembling and her mouth was dry as she checked his pulse and breathing.

   He muttered a response as he opened his eyes halfway. The dust caked on his face made it difficult to open them any further. Lamb felt immediate relief, but was met with a new problem.

   She couldn’t move him by herself. He needed medical attention that she couldn’t provide.

   Lamb suddenly remembered the signal grenades that she’d been given on her first visit to the Prydwen. She could send a distress beacon through her Pip-Boy and double up with the grenade.

   She stuck Danse with a stimpack and then scrambled over and through the wreckage of multiple storefronts to a clear spot in the street. She was thankful for her Institute-made Pip-Boy as she started transmitting on one of the Brotherhood’s frequencies. It was an exact copy of the Robco Pip-Boy that was found in the Vault, but with some very useful additions.

   Lamb clambered up a pile of bricks and looked for a clear enough spot in the street for a vertibird. She found one after partially climbing up some twisted metal. She tossed a signal grenade and headed back to where Danse lay.

   Danse was groaning when she stumbled out of the rubble at his feet. He’d obviously been wiping his face off while she was gone, since she could actually see his eyes.

   “Danse? What’s wrong?”

   “Tried to get up,” he said, grimacing. Then he looked up at Lamb finally, his eyes widening. “Knight.”

   Lamb’s stomach turned. He was using his Paladin voice on her and she didn’t know why. She choked a little on her own spit as she tried to respond. “What?”

   “You’re bleeding profusely.” He motioned her closer somewhat weakly. “And your helmet’s broken nearly _in half, Knight.”_

   She knelt over one of his legs. “I heard something hit my helmet but I haven’t _felt_ anything,” she said. “I signaled for help so someone should be here soon.”

   Lamb unbuckled the chin strap of her helmet and tried pulling it off, only to find that _yes she definitely had a head wound._

   It stung badly enough to make her tear up as she removed her helmet and held it up. There was a very clear break line across the right side. She gingerly touched the side of her head and felt a rather large knot. Her fingertips came away coated in her blood.

   She felt faint.

   Danse put his hand on her back, grounding her, and she was struck with how big the spread of his hand was against her. They looked up at the distant but distinct sound of a vertibird approaching.

   She felt warm.


End file.
